from afar, she watches the rainbow
by Sokudo Ningyou
Summary: Those colours exist now only in her memory. And she knows that now, they can leave her behind too.


As she walked to work, pressing through the rush of bodies that made up pedestrian traffic at Tokyo's busiest crosswalk, her eyes were caught by the flashing images of the large TV screens in front of the Sony building. Frowning, she bit her lip, only marginally aware of the people around her slowing their pace as well, only to eventually come to a halt. Cars began beeping their horns irately as traffic was effectively jammed, but none of them cared.

The sailor soldiers were pale imitations of themselves, even in high-definition widescreen, the plasma technology the best of its kind on the market. But nothing could compare to the real thing, she knew; those flashes of lightning and violent spin of fire and ice were incomparable to anything man could reproduce. But even on screen the girls moved with a mystifying grace, their years together training them to defend and offend like clockwork, lips moving to invoke their attacks as their bodies twisted and spun. None of it was audible over the crash of whatever enemy they faced this time as it upended cars and tore up trees, but audio confirmation was hardly necessary; the mere visual spectacle was enough.

Fingers convulsed against the handle of her briefcase as she watched them place themselves in danger, though they were clearly enjoying themselves. During a more innocent time, they would have been slightly frantic and defiant, quite obviously afraid that every fight may be their last as they tripped and dodged and flung their imperfect power back. They had no true understanding of their abilities past a handful of phrases and the tingling in their limbs signaling a gathering of magic before the explosive release. Little older than children they had all been when they had accepted those pens.

And she had not grown up much more when she had firmly and finally decided to reject her own.

* * *

The day was slow after that: she made it to work with no undue crisis, changing into the simple uniform that marked her transformation from pedestrian to pediatrician. She went through her patients with a kind efficiency, diagnosing everything from colds to measles to jaundice, sending them on their way with little more than a smile and a small handful of red bean candy. It was a peaceful day, an unremarkable day, and a day she had never in her wildest fantasies expected for herself once she had found herself marked for heroism and a silly uniform. 

Musing over the news report from earlier, she caught herself in murmuring a name – that title was no longer hers, had not been in years – and instead busied herself with unbraiding her hair. The younger babies liked to play with the heavy braid, and just like any other day, she found her hair to be sticky with sugar and dirty hands. Once, she would have been upset over finding it singed, hacked off, or frazzled from heat; now, she was simply exasperated. But it was an honest emotion, born through honest labor, and not the silliness of a young girl.

She had stood on the precipice of high school and her future those scarce years ago, realizing in a sudden, cold flash of insight that the path she was taking was not the one she wanted. Oh, she had protested a bit at the beginning of the journey, but had thought excitement was what she craved, a way out from the boring predictability of her life. But the years, all too few of them to turn a person jaded, began to wear her down. She grew tired of death and its near misses, of lying after curfew as to where she had been last night, or, worse, why she had run away for a week when the Black Moon kidnapped everyone.

The path had grown treacherous, exceeding even her expectations. And quite frankly, she liked living. She had died for a girl with a sunny smile and innocence in her eyes, and though she loved her with all of her heart, she just couldn't do it again. Winter still chilled her far too much, despite all of her layers of clothing and brave face. And none of them truly listened to her unless she had something to offer in argument to their plans of battle.

So she took a stand. She planned it all within a week: begging for and receiving a transfer in the months before exams clear across the city, a carefully mailed package labeled with a warning not to open until a specific date, and a quick and clean cut off from them all. Her cell phone number changed. She didn't answer the door. She ignored the mail piling up in her box whenever she logged on. It was a coward's way out, but she had realized that no amount of grandstanding, power, and time would influence her any other way. Even when she had been brave, she had been cowardly inside, desperate for the chance to run. She knew, deep down, they would understand.

Finally, everything ceased. On TV, she saw a new girl with her colours, just around their age, struggling to learn on the job. The house seemed quiet without their voices, as they no longer came to visit; even her new friends seemed silent next to the shades of her memory. p But her schoolwork improved as she realized she had no more distractions, and no reason to shirk when she had the full use of her time. She drifted into the sciences and passed her exams brilliantly, entering Hana High with only the slightest of regrets: she heard the others had gone to Juuban. Not a bad school, but not good enough for her greedy brain as it relished its freedom. p Four years passed in quiet for her, broken only by the odd channel flip to one of their battles, or a twist of the radio knob telling her what they were doing. She paid attention with half an ear, telling herself it wasn't important as she pored over her schoolwork, conscious of the silence underneath it all as she sat in her room. And soon it simply wasn't; she was no longer a sailor soldier. Another girl had taken that unenviable role. She had more pressing matters to attend to.

And indeed, she went far. She made it into KO Medical, decided to go into the pediatrician field, and applied herself accordingly. When she passed, she felt as if the weight had been lifted off of her shoulders; she had made it. She had turned her life into something she herself chose, instead of blindly following that well-worn path.

The road less traveled was indeed all the difference in the world.

* * *

On impulse that night, she went past the spot where the battle had taken place. A restaurant up the road had excellent noodles, and that was the excuse she gave herself; even as she stared at the shattered asphalt in passing, she reminded herself of dinner instead of bygone dreams. 

But she didn't make it.

She lifted her briefcase in a clear warning to swing when the shadows moved, blocking her path. "I won't hesitate to defend myself," she snapped, expecting, but not hearing, a thread of fear in her voice. Idiot, she thought. Even now, she couldn't act the passive victim, though she had no power or even her old strength. "Show yourself! Or I'll scream for the police!"

"That's no way to act towards old friends, Minako-chan."

Jupiter. And the girl beside her…the new Venus. Her arms trembled as she lowered the briefcase, staring rudely at her old uniform. Had it looked so golden and alive when she had worn it? Quite possibly; she would have never noticed, taking it for granted. As the girl wearing it most likely did, though her dull brown hair and brown eyes made for plain adornment. Her skin was a warm mocha, similar to Pluto's; perhaps she was Filipino.

"Ma—Jupiter," she replied finally, allowing her arms to swing limp at her sides. Her friend looked good after so long, though the pale scar bisecting her eyebrow would have looked less than rakish on anyone else. Hair was shorter, which was a shock; she could never imagine Makoto without her ponytail. "I saw you on TV," Minako said lamely, gesturing apologetically.

With a frown, Jupiter scanned her clinically, taking in her slightly more round figure – she had given up sports upon entering high school, and her hips had suffered for it – her sensible attire, and her plain, unremarkable air. "That's all you can say…you've changed, Minako. Ever since you disappeared on us. Artemis still won't mention you"

'Minako.' Clearly, she's no longer deserving of the casual suffix. And she flinches, remembering her fight with the white feline, the harsh words between them before he was out the window and out of her life. Presumably, he lived with one of them now. He would have made it his mission to train the new Venus to take her place.

She glances again at her, resplendent in a golden uniform that hardly matches her face. The girl won't meet her eyes, and it's just as well; she doesn't think she could handle the shared knowledge between them, the realization that they both know the glamour and rush of being the soldier of Venus. Though the status of princess was still hers to call, it was a hollow title. She was nothing without the power of her planet.

Jupiter made a dismissive noise in the back of her throat, turning away to scan the battlefield. It both surprises and saddens her; Jupiter, despite her mothering and desperate need for femininity, was also passionately loyal. To have one of her friends reject her so clearly meant that she would do the same, cutting the ties to Aino Minako. Though she did it first, it hurts anew to have the evidence in front of her face. Once, perhaps, Makoto may have understood her need to run away. Now, it seems she's forgotten that simple yearning for freedom.

Venus says nothing, looking far too shy to be the new leader of the team. Perhaps Uranus usurped that role; Minako wouldn't be surprised. All she does is stare elsewhere but her face, watching Jupiter with interest as she searched for some clue or object. Minako simply fidgets, no longer disciplined to stay still and prepared. She could walk away, that she knows; but somehow, given her old rudeness, it seems worse to do it again. p Finally, the taller girl gave up, focusing her attention back on her old friend. "I'm glad you're happy, Minako. But what you did to us…it's unforgivable. Kyoko wasn't ready for any of it."

"Were any of us?" Minako queried stiffly, daring her to contradict her. "I had the power first, and I thought...it was like a game, to me. But I couldn't keep playing it. Not with such high stakes. It isn't the pachinko parlor, where you can so easily quit. And I couldn't go back."

"You quit easily enough! Aino Minako, the future idol singer and volleyball star. Is that what you wanted? To be just an ordinary girl?" Jupiter seems unaware of the comedy in asking Minako this; or maybe she's simply acknowledging that her dreams have long ago diverged as well. Once, she would have emphatically said that she, too, wanted to be ordinary.

Minako drew herself up and stared her in the eye, despite their difference in height. She saw now what she had left behind, standing in front of her. A very different sort of life and devotion to duty that she had found too sour to swallow. The realization that now she can truly let that life go makes her smile. "_Hai,_ Mako-chan. It's what I wanted. Once, you would have, as well. _Sayonara_." She passed them by, not sparing Venus another glance. Those colours exist now only in her memory. And she knows that now, they can leave her behind too.

**Fin.**


End file.
